I wake up with a thousand thoughts flying around in my head. Flights to be booked, plans to be made, and research to be carried out. But first – a dip in the roof top pool. It’s beautiful, I have it all to myself and the sun is already scorching at 9am.
After 5 hours of looking at this laptop screen and feeling the familiar pangs of nervous stress so plentiful in another life, I walk the 100 metres to the beach and get installed in a deck chair. The waves come crashing in, as do the local Thai tourist touts on jet skis. The sand is soft, sun is merciless and the beach pleasantly devoid of people. I devour my Lonely Planet and it suddenly dawns on me how little time I have - and how rich Indonesia is in experiences. Damn. I have to leave now.
I pick up my laundry, more than half of my stuff, 2.5 kg, for £2. Washed, ironed, pressed, folded, packaged flawlessly. Probably took someone half a day to do. I feel embarrassed.
This is the tacky side of Phuket, the wrong side of Thailand. This is where you hear ‘yes, please, madam, come in come in, very good plice fo you’ and see drunken Russian and Chinese tourists destroy a beautiful country. Alan and I go for one last Green curry and Singha beers before it’s time to sleep.
I Skype with home. They say I look like a little red prawn. I wear a stupid grin and wish they were here.
Tomorrow the taxi picks me up at 05.15.